It Started with a Secret: The feel-good novel of the year, from the bestselling author of MAYBE THIS TIME

by Jill Mansell

  And now, unbelievably, she was turning away, marching over to a filthy dark blue Volvo rakishly parked half on and half off the dandelion-studded verge. Having climbed behind the wheel and buzzed down the windows, she performed a nifty five-point turn and gestured for Mimi to move out of the way so she could drive off.

  In desperation, Mimi said, ‘Look, I don’t suppose you could give me a lift, could you? I’d be so grateful—’

  ‘Sorry, I’m going in the opposite direction.’ She didn’t sound sorry at all.

  ‘But how am I going to get to Goosebrook?’

  The woman gave a pitying shake of the head. ‘You have legs, don’t you? A couple of fully functioning feet? I know it’s a radical idea, but I suggest you try using them.’

  And she roared off down the narrow lane, just as the sun disappeared behind a cloud and the first fat drops of rain began to fall.

  So much for friendly locals and the magic of the countryside.

  An hour later, Mimi was making good, if sodden, progress. On the upside, at least she wasn’t wearing high heels. But her ballet flats, with their wafer-thin soles, weren’t the most comfortable either; she could feel every bump in the rough tarmac. And her overnight bag was making her shoulder ache; if only she’d brought along her red case with the wheels.

  Oh well, she’d covered four miles and there was only one more to go. It had stopped raining, too. The sky was blue once more, birds were singing, the hedgerows were starred with primroses and there were sheep in the meadow to her right, some with newborn lambs gambolling in the sunshine—

  Mimi stopped dead in her tracks, horrified by what she was seeing and realising at once what was going on. Just the other night she’d seen a report on TV about the recent spate of vicious attacks on horses in fields, and now it was happening right in front of her, but this time the victim of the attack was a sheep.

  Shock and adrenalin surged through her body. She dropped her heavy bag, vaulted the low wall and charged down the slope towards the figure half hidden behind a clump of bushes, but not half hidden enough to disguise the fact that he was wrestling furiously with a sheep on the ground.

  ‘Oh my God, stop it . . .’ She gathered speed as she ran through taller clumps of grass that whipped around her bare legs. ‘What are you doing? Get away from that sheep!’

  The man was wearing jeans and a polo shirt; glancing up, he ignored her and carried on battling with the sheep, which was lying on its back, its little legs waggling furiously in the air as it struggled to escape.

  ‘Stop it, just stop it!’ Skidding to a halt a few metres away in case he was a lunatic with a knife, Mimi yelled, ‘You leave him alone right now or I’m calling the police!’

  The man abruptly released his hold on the sheep and rose to his feet, prompting Mimi to take a few more steps backwards. OK, she hadn’t thought this through; what if he really was a lunatic?

  ‘Let me take a wild guess.’ As he spoke, he shook his wet hair out of his eyes and surveyed her, taking in the pink and white striped jacket, the short flippy white skirt and the silver ballet flats. ‘You don’t live around here.’

  OK, the good news was that he wasn’t wielding a weapon. He also had a nice voice, kind of drawly and amused. Still panting from her unexpected exertions, Mimi said, ‘Just because I’m wearing silver shoes, you’re assuming I’m some kind of . . . townie.’

  ‘Partly true.’ He nodded, conceding that she’d been right. ‘Although one other clue was the way you called the sheep him.’

  ‘Now you’re just being pedantic. I was trying to stop you attacking it,’ Mimi pointed out. ‘There wasn’t time to get out my binoculars and have a look at its private parts.’

  This was evidently hilarious; the man was now biting his lip, doing his best not to laugh. He said, ‘With this breed of sheep, if it were a male it would have horns. And it would be a ram.’

  ‘Well, you weren’t treating it very gently.’ Sensing that she was fighting a losing battle, Mimi jumped as the sheep let out a long, baleful baaaaaaaaa. ‘There’s no need to be cruel to animals, you know.’

  ‘OK, let me explain. She’s pregnant.’ He nodded patiently. ‘By the look of her, with twins.’

  Mimi was appalled. ‘All the more reason to be kind!’

  He smiled. ‘Her fleece is sodden with rain. She has a huge belly. When she lay down, she rolled onto her back and now she’s stuck there, can’t get up again. If she’s left like that, she’ll die. So if you want to help, come over here and give me a hand getting her back on her feet.’

  The grass was wet and slippery, and the pregnant ewe was bottom-heavy and wriggly, but after a couple of minutes of tussling, heaving and baaing, they finally managed to get her upright once more.

  The man who wasn’t a knife-wielding maniac held the animal’s bulky body against his legs, giving her time to regain her bearings. Then he released her and they both watched as she trotted off without so much as a backward glance to rejoin the rest of the flock.

  ‘Not even a thank you,’ Mimi remarked.

  ‘I know. She won’t write, she won’t phone.’ As they began to make their way back up the sloping field, he said, ‘Still, you did a good job there, helped to save her life. Not bad, for a townie.’

  ‘Thanks. And I’m sorry I shouted at you.’

  ‘No problem. You meant well. Where are you visiting, anyway?’

  ‘Goosebrook.’ Wondering just how shiny her face was, but not wanting to get caught trying to make herself look better, Mimi surreptitiously gave her forehead a wipe with the sleeve of her jacket.

  ‘Well that’s where I live.’ They’d reached the gate that led out onto the road, and Mimi saw now that a dark brown terrier was waiting there for him. As he unhooked the lead, which had been looped over the gatepost, the man said, ‘This is Otto. I’m Cal.’

  ‘And is this your flock?’ She belatedly realised that he must be a farmer.

  ‘No, they aren’t mine.’ He grinned. ‘I just stopped to help out a young lady sheep in distress.’

  Otto was up on his hind legs, nudging Mimi’s hand with his nose, eager for attention. Rubbing his lopsided ears, she said, ‘Hello, aren’t you gorgeous?’ then looked up at Cal. ‘I’m Mimi. Well, Emylia. But mainly Mimi.’ Now that she wasn’t distracted by the sheep, she saw that his hair was straight and shiny, streaked white blonde by the sun. His brows and lashes were dark, the whites of his brown eyes very white. He had olive skin, an outdoorsy tan and an athletic physique.

  ‘Mimi. Nice to meet you. So how long are you down here for?’

  She couldn’t help perking up a bit; whilst she’d been checking him out, had he been doing the same to her? Damn, though, she’d forgotten she wasn’t looking her best. Aloud, she said, ‘Just a couple of days.’

  ‘Staying in one of the holiday cottages?’

  And now her heart was doing that uncomfortable speeding-up thing it always did, even after so many years. She really should be used to it by now. She straightened her shoulders. ‘No, I’m visiting my dad. He lives in Goosebrook.’

  Cal looked surprised. ‘He does? Who’s your dad then?’

  ‘Hang on a sec, I left my bag . . .’ Turning before he could see the flush colouring her cheeks, she ran back along the lane to where she’d flung her bag down in the dip where the grass verge met the dry-stone wall. She loved her dad to bits and she wasn’t embarrassed by him, but there was always that tricky moment when other people discovered you were his daughter and you had to deal with whatever they might have to say about it.

  The thing was, sometimes you weren’t bothered about those people’s reactions because they weren’t important to you anyway. But at other times, when you met someone and instinctively liked them, it meant the pressure was on because you really didn’t want them to come out with some response that was either rude or downright offensive.

  Please don’t let him do that.

  Mentally preparing herself, Mimi hurried back to where Cal and Otto were waiting
for her. She held up her bag – like an idiot – and said, ‘Got it! Never a good idea to leave your overnight stuff in a ditch!’

  Otto, eyeing her with bright-eyed interest, wagged his tail.

  And Cal, also eyeing her with interest, said, ‘Can I guess?’

  ‘Um, if you like.’ Did he really want to know what she’d brought down with her? OK, if he managed to tell her that her bag contained grey and white elephant-print pyjamas, a Fortnum and Mason fruit cake and half a dozen hardback thrillers, that would be seriously impressive and—

  ‘Are you Dan Huish’s daughter?’

  Mimi stared at him. ‘Yes! How on earth did you know that?’ Because her father had told her only last night that no one in the village knew of her existence.

  Cal shrugged and said simply, ‘You look like him.’

  ‘Oh. Really? I mean, I think I do a bit, but people don’t usually notice. I’m more like my mum.’

  ‘I’m observant.’ He smiled. ‘You have the same eyes. Green, deep-set. Similar face shape too. You have quite a bit more hair, though.’

  ‘I definitely win that competition.’ Mimi ruffled her mass of tortoiseshell hair, which always exploded out of control the moment it was exposed to rain.

  ‘We didn’t know he had a daughter. Is this your first time down here?’ Cal hesitated, looked wary. ‘Is he expecting to see you today?’

  Touched by his concern, Mimi said, ‘Are you worried I might be about to get a massive surprise? It’s OK, don’t panic. I do know Dad’s gay.’

  Chapter 2

  Cal looked relieved. ‘Phew, for a moment you had me worried. I suddenly thought he might be leading a secret double life.’

  He was nice, Mimi could tell; he wasn’t about to say anything bigoted or crass. ‘Mum and Dad got divorced seven years ago, when I was fifteen,’ she said ‘It was a shock at first, of course it was, but we got through it. And Dad met Marcus four years ago.’

  ‘Marcus, that’s it.’ Cal nodded, clearly reassured there wasn’t about to be some dramatic EastEnders-style showdown.

  ‘And yes, they do know I’m coming down. Dad was going to meet me off the five o’clock train. But I left work at midday, caught the earlier one and thought it’d be fun to jump in a cab at the station so I could save him the trip.’

  ‘A . . . cab?’ Cal looked amused.

  ‘Well I know that now. I just wasn’t expecting it to be completely deserted. The countryside isn’t my specialist subject.’ Mimi shrugged. ‘Anyway, never mind. I’ve had an adventure instead. And we’re nearly there now. Oh wow, look at it . . . now that’s what I call a view.’

  As she’d been speaking, they’d reached the brow of the hill and now Goosebrook was revealed, appearing before them in all its bucolic spring-infused glory. The honeyed Cotswold limestone of the buildings was offset by the abundance of greenery and the bright colours of the flowers in the gardens. The church spire rose into the sky, the roofs of the jumble of houses and cottages were mottled ochre yellow and grey, and children and parents were visible on the village green in front of the church. There were a few shops – not many, Mimi knew – as well as a popular local pub called the Black Swan. And there too, snaking through the village and gleaming silver in the sunlight, was the brook itself, with the old stone bridge arching across it.

  ‘It’s a pretty nice place to live,’ said Cal, as Otto strained on his lead to reach a butterfly that was taunting him, dancing around just out of his reach.

  ‘Beautiful. Bit different from London.’ Just breathing in the sparkling, unpolluted air was an experience. Then again, the lack of handy takeaways would take some getting used to. Personally Mimi wasn’t sure she could survive without a Burger King on her doorstep.

  ‘And how are your dad and Marcus settling in?’

  ‘They love the countryside. And living here in the Cotswolds. I’m sure everything’s going to be fine,’ said Mimi. ‘It’s just that getting-to-know-people stage, especially in their situation. They want people to like them, but some of the villagers haven’t been . . . you know, as friendly as they’d hoped. Not you, I’m sure,’ she added hastily. ‘It’s just a few of the older people have been a bit stand-offish.’

  Cal nodded. ‘I’m sure they have. But it’s not because of the gay thing.’

  It was all very well for Cal to say that, but how could he know for sure? ‘No? Dad and Marcus are so nice, though. What else could it be?’

  ‘Just good old-fashioned tribalism, suspicion of strangers.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s never changed. The general feeling is new people don’t count as villagers until they’ve lived here for a good while. Because what’s the point of bothering to get to know them if they’re just going to up and leave again? Not saying it’s right,’ he added. ‘Just that that’s the way it’s always been. And the older villagers especially resent the ones who buy second homes down here, then leave them standing empty for months on end. Which is what happened to Bay Cottage – your dad’s place – before he and Marcus bought it. That’s the reason they’re wary . . . they don’t want it happening again.’

  ‘Fair enough. Well, that’s good to know.’ They moved to the side of the road as a van passed them, the driver exchanging a cheery salute with Cal. ‘So how long before they count as proper villagers?’

  ‘Not too long, only about thirty years.’ He grinned at her. ‘Maybe fifty years for the really suspicious ones. Are you sure I can’t carry that for you?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Mimi shook her head; the soles of her feet were burning and the weight of her overnight case was hurting her shoulder, but they were nearly there now. ‘And thanks for the heads-up. I’ll tell them what you said. They’ll be relieved it wasn’t the reason they thought.’

  Mimi was relieved too; she felt like an anxious mum, reassured that her shy children would settle into their new school.

  Cal said, ‘Things will get easier, I promise. And I hope they do stay. Who knows, we might see the three of you later in the pub.’

  ‘Dad’s not really a drinker.’ At a guess, the fact that they’d been keeping away from the Black Swan hadn’t helped.

  ‘Well, they do food too. It’s a sociable place. If they walked in through the doors,’ said Cal, ‘it wouldn’t instantly fall silent like the O. K. Corral.’

  His dark brown eyes were glinting with amusement. Mimi said, ‘I’ll tell them that too.’

  ‘The more they join in, the better things will be. I do understand, though. It must be tricky sometimes.’

  ‘It has been.’ Mimi nodded.

  ‘Not easy for you either,’ said Cal. ‘Especially if you were fifteen and it came as a bolt from the blue for you and your mum . . . unless they’d broken up years before. No, don’t answer that, none of my business. Sorry.’ He shook his head. ‘Sometimes I ask too many questions without stopping to wonder if they’re appropriate.’

  Mimi had had enough practice by now to know that some people were desperate to hear all the salacious details, whilst others were simply sympathetic to her situation. Cal, she could instinctively tell, fell into the second camp.

  Not that the details were remotely salacious anyway.

  ‘It’s fine,’ she reassured him. ‘Mum and Dad did their best to make it easy for me. Obviously I was devastated when they broke up and Dad moved out, but I didn’t know the real reason behind it. So that bit must have been harder for Mum, because she did know, and when he’d told her it had come as a massive shock. Then about six months later, they sat me down with them and told me. And that was . . . well, weird. Pretty traumatic in one way, but then it kind of made sense, because I hadn’t been able to understand why they couldn’t stay together.’ Mimi paused, still able to recall every moment of that rainy Saturday afternoon. ‘I mean, I went through all the emotions. When you’re that age, anything to do with the idea of your parents’ sex lives is enough to make you want to throw up, so that aspect wasn’t great. But on the other hand, he was still my dad and I loved him to bits.’

&n
bsp; ‘It must have been hard to cope with,’ said Cal.

  ‘School was the worst. Some people were fantastic. And others were awful.’ Mimi shuddered. ‘Mainly the boys, who thought it was hilarious and couldn’t stop making fun of us. Well, you can imagine the kind of crap I had to put up with.’

  ‘Not ideal when you’re that age,’ said Cal.

  ‘Teenagers can be brutal. You soon learn who your real friends are, I can tell you.’ She pulled a face. ‘It was definitely character-forming.’

  ‘And I bet the worst culprits were the ones who were secretly battling with their own feelings.’

  ‘Yes! Exactly that! The captain of the school football team was horrible to me for months, said some really mean things about Dad . . . and last Christmas I saw on Facebook that he was off to LA with his boyfriend. So I sent him a nice message saying I hoped they had a lovely time.’

  ‘And did he apologise for everything he’d said at school?’

  ‘Of course not. He might be gay now, but that doesn’t magically stop him from being a massive prat.’

  ‘Prats are boring.’ Cal grinned. ‘Tell me about you. Whereabouts do you live in London? Somewhere amazing?’

  ‘Hmm, I wouldn’t call it that.’ Picturing the run-down building that had been all she could afford to share, Mimi imagined plonking it down in the centre of the ultra-rural scene surrounding them. ‘It’s a Victorian hovel in Bermondsey, rented out by a shyster landlord who’s crammed twelve of us into a place big enough for six. But that’s what it’s like in the city if you aren’t loaded, you kind of get used to it. You have to ignore the downsides, the rats and the tenants you’d rather not be sharing with, and just make the most of having somewhere to live. My friend Kendra has the room next to mine and she’s great, so we mainly stick together. And it’s a friendly enough neighbourhood. Bit different to this, mind.’ She indicated the rolling hills and the bobbing fields of wheat or corn or whatever that green stuff was over to the left of them.